


Who?

by Dagoth_Menthol



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Mental Breakdown, Self-Hatred, also has a good ending, finding self, no beta read, pls don't read when you get affected by sth like that, the character is male
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagoth_Menthol/pseuds/Dagoth_Menthol
Summary: Someone has a mental breakdown while on vacation. He is questioning who he is and what he is to others.__________________I wrote this while I was not feeling well, but I kinda like how it is written, so I want to give it a shot.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Who?

**Author's Note:**

> Last chance to turn back, if you aren't liking the tags. Please take care of yourself.

The fire warmed his cold palms very well and although he was standing so close to it, it didn't manage to warm him entirely. Not that it would be able to do it anyways. 

There was just this coldness inside of him that couldn't get away just by sitting at a fire.

With a sigh he pulled his legs close to his torso, so he was able to conveniently rest his head on his knees. He slung his arms around them in order to prevent his legs from slipping away.

It was a clear night in the beginning of winter. So it wasn't as cold as it could get here though. Nevertheless he built himself a little fort out of branches as a sort of ceiling and its walls were pretty thick walls of snow. It took him from the sun's highest point to its lowest to build it. 

He was proud of his work. He had to be so careful with building it, since he would stay here for a few days. 

His walk took a night over at another improvised tent, that he would use in a few days again on his way back. It was totally worth the effort. He got rewarded by such a magnificent few.

A lake. Surrounded by a forest that reached from one side of the horizon to the other. It was a sheer endless sea of trees, only being stopped by the lake, which was like an island. 

It was his island. He was alone in this forest. It anchored him to the feeling of just existing. Being able to witness this beauty in all of its might, as the stars were reflected by the water's surface.

He took a deep breath. Stood up. Made a few steps towards the lake. Still he stood, when he reached the last tree at the shore.

The cool air had an energizing effect to it. The wind picked up a bit, filling him with all the energy it had. He didn't care about that. And neither did it matter. He came prepared with his thick winter clothing and thermos cans.

While he leaned against the tree, he was watching the little waves that began to form. Now the stars were blinking. It was like a disco ball, but way better and way more breathtaking. Like a party just for him to witness.

He closed his eyes for a short moment. Only listening to his surroundings. The tree branches rubbed against each other from time to time, producing that odd sound that kinda alarmed, but also comforted him. It seemed like the forest was breathing.  
He heard about that expression so many times, but when he witnesses it, he is always stunned by how accurate that phrase was.

The lake's waves were now pushing the water towards the shore. It made these little splashing and gurgling sounds, when the water hit the little rocks and retreated back again, in order to start all over again. Like an endless cycle.

As calming the whole atmosphere was, it definitely did not represent his inner turmoil. It grew and grew, once he finished building his improvised camp.

Now he was standing there not at rest at all, not the way he wanted it to be, that's for sure.

The silence was suffocating him, although he was awaiting it, when he departed from the loud and busy base situated in Hereford. The home of the most obnoxious bunch of people. The people he loved and cared about. Friends.

Friends… He would be glad to have them here now, to fill his desperately wanted and needed silence with their laughter. But still he would have turned his back to them and would stand here. Away from the bonfire, where his friends would sit and would enjoy themselves. Away from the company. Still too close to not listen to their bickering and jokes or old stories from different times.  
But he would remain here. Lurking in the shadows. Only smiling to himself. 

He would love to talk to them and share his stories. But why should he? Why was he so desperate to tell them anyways? They most of the time would be boring, or just about his feelings. He is quite certain they would listen to what he has to tell. But why would they listen? Just because of decency? Because they were interested? Because they were more than just hollow muppets, that would do as he pleases? 

How could something mundane be of any use to tell? Why did he feel the urge to? They are unnecessary stories. No one would give any other thought to them, except a nod. Or a small smile in sympathy. Or maybe just a small huff. Or maybe nothing at all.

Nothing.

He was afraid of nothing. He was afraid of not being. He was afraid of being nothing.

Nothing to his friends. Nothing to his family.

His family... always with their high expectations. Sure they want the best for him. But what is the best?

The best of course would be a good high school diploma and a Master's Degree in some scientific, medical or juridical subject. Gaining lots of money and marry someone. A woman to be more specific. How would he fulfill his parent's wish for grandchildren?

But was that really enough? It somehow never feels good enough. Not good enough for them.

But why for them? Shouldn't he decide what he wanted to do? Why would that be the hardest pill to swallow? 

When he grew up, he always got told that he could become, whatever his heart desired. Unless he wasn't a doctor/scientist/lawyer. 

He never wanted to be one. He never wanted to be stuck at one place. He always wished to travel. See other places and meet new people. But also being able to always come back home.

But he wasn't. He disobeyed his parent's and especially his father's orders by joining the military.

Now it wasn't that easy for him to get grandchildren. Not that he was able to either. He just had no taste for women.

Neither did he get a Master's Degree in any of these all so wanted fields.

Afterall, all he was good at was killing. Killing for his friends. His family.

Just wanting them to all feel safe.

He only wants to know if that is good enough? Is safety and goodwill good enough? Was he good enough for them? His friends. His family. All of them he swore to protect?

Was he good enough for himself?

He sunk to his knees overwhelmed by everything and nothing in particular. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Who was he to his beloved friends and family? Who was he to himself?

Who is he now to friends and family? Who is he now?

What became of him?

He wasn't really able to catch his breath due to his sobbing and hunched position. Having his hands cover his face didn't help either.

He had to focus. Take deep breaths.

He sat up straight, letting his hands rest on his lap and closed his eyes. He rolled his head a bit backwards, so his face was now pointing to the night sky.

The tears started to dry on his face. Leaving the bare skin burning from the cold wind. But he didn't mind.

At least he felt something. He knew he wasn't dead.

Slowly his breathing steadied and he wasn't that much in a turmoil as before.

Because now he knows who he was. 

A friend. A family member. Maxim Basuda.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and please stay safe! 
> 
> Also I chose Maxim, because he is the one I just identify the most with ;-;


End file.
